


Photosynthesis

by meldve



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Current timeline, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23114734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meldve/pseuds/meldve
Summary: You had never met a man who had made having a crush absolutely crushingly intense. Lovesick. Anxious. Excited. All the time. Always.Not until you met Shoyo.May contain spoilers ahead: loosely based on current timeline of manga.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Reader
Comments: 41
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i am in love with shoyo and no one can stop me from writing this

You had never met a man who had made having a crush absolutely  _ crushingly  _ intense. Lovesick. Anxious. Excited. All the time. Always.

Not until you met Shoyo. 

His energy was infectious; blindingly nauseating if you stared at him too long. Almost like the sun in human form. Warm, inviting. Laughed with his whole heart, with his eyes closed, head thrown back as if he was always hearing the funniest joke he’d ever heard. He loved like that too, with his whole heart, eyes closed, always receptive of what you both wanted.

You had met him on accident, filling in for a mentor who usually took elementary-aged kids to an indoor volleyball court. While on exchange, you decided to help the local community centre by teaching English, in exchange for them teaching you Portuguese. Most of your visitors were adults, however, some extra hands were needed for the children’s outing since some permanent staff were sick. Since it was school holidays, an influx of kids were being dropped off, and the centre had their hands full with differing activities and schedules.

Your Portuguese - only five months old and  _ quite _ broken - was enough to get you by considering the children were used to speaking in simple phrases. Amazingly, some of the kids already knew English thanks to Youtube. 

One of the more energetic boys breaks you out of your thoughts. “I wonder if Ninja Shoyo will be there today?!”

You can’t help but look down at the seven year old and mirror his smile; gapped and gleaming. “Who is Ninja Shoyo?” you ask, creasing your brows and slightly tilting your head. 

Another one of the kids, tugging on your hand as you all walk as a big group to the indoor court, shouts, “Ninja Shoyo is the best! He’s foreign and quick!”

You laugh, swinging your arms and linking your fingers together tighter with the chattering children. “I can’t wait to meet him then.”

Amongst all the chatter, you hadn’t really had any idea of what to expect. Your job was fairly straight-forward, watching over the kids as they played, making sure you had the same head count to and from the education centre. 

However as soon as you walked through those glass doors, the squeak of rubber immediately caught your attention, and it was none other than Shoyo, in all of his jumping glory, bouncing off the court and spiking a volleyball. 

You had never paid attention to volleyball, nor had any real interest in it - your high school didn’t have a team and neither did your university back home. You knew absolutely nothing about it but now you were suddenly  _ so  _ interested. 

Sure, the orange-haired man who had jumped  _ incredibly  _ high in front of you, showing off his muscles may have peaked your interest, but it’s not like you’re complaining or anything. 

“Ninja Shoyo!” the kids cried in unison. Both of the children whose hands you were holding untangled their fingers from yours and ran up to him. When he turned around you were sure you had fallen in love for the first time in your life. And just your luck, it was the first time you had ever laid eyes on him. 

Love at first sight, perhaps? You had no idea what that would be like but you were staring to get an idea now.

You were in a trance for the rest of the session. He had said hi to the kids, briefly introduced himself to you, jogging up, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his forearm and held out his hand for you to shake. You took it, mumbling your name and he just grinned back at you in return. “Will you play?” he asked, yelling over his shoulder as he made his way back to the children. 

You pointed to yourself. “Me?”

“It’s fun!” Shoyo exclaims.

You absolutely believe him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear current shoyo...... i love u and ur tan skin.....

Shoyo had never been on a date before, so it was no surprise to say that he was nervous.  _ Very  _ nervous. Like, more nervous than he had ever been in a while. 

He recalls running into you, a week after coaching the kids at the community centre. You had both been at the local market, scanning for fruit when you locked eyes again. 

Except this time, it was your turn to leave him speechless. 

He recalls many pretty girls he had acknowledged in his life; Kiyoko-san, the Shinzen High manager who had been very polite during his first inter-high school college camp with the Fukurodani Group, and when he noticed Natsu growing up before he left Miyagi. But this was different. You didn’t make him stutter like the older girls, and you didn’t make him overwhelmed with emotion like when Natsu had bought him his own wallet. No, it was so different. 

He noticed you instantly, remembering the sparkle in your eyes every time he called out to you. Watching your dress sway in the slight wind, hugging the curves of your body. Perhaps there was a touch of innocence that he could relate to, having only focused on his team and studies in the past few years. Now that he was out of his cage in Japan, it was like he was experiencing life for the second time. As an adult in an adult world. 

Instead of leaving it up to fate he made the decision to grab you by the arm and ask you for your time. To spend. On a date with him.

And by some miracle, Shoyo thinks, you said yes. 

He asks Pedro at least five times if he looks okay. Pedro asks if he needs any shoujo manga to hype him up. Though, Shoyo thinks that will make him even more nervous. He wanted to so badly text Kageyama or Yamaguchi, maybe even Tsukishima for advice but he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did. Well, it’s not like he thinks they’d be of any help. Especially that Kageyama. 

He decides to go out for a walk on the beach before meeting up with you for dinner. He clears his head in the form of meditation. Every morning he sits out on the sand, asking it to be forgiving and strong, making sure he’s nourished his body so he’s ready for the day ahead. He does the same thing, but in the evening, when the sky is purple and twilight has swallowed the harsh rays of the afternoon sun.

He sits cross-legged, maintaining a steady beat of his heart and closing his eyes to listen to the ocean. It’s much different from Japan, and he’s accustomed to it now. 

“Shoyo?”

He opens up one eye, peering to the side and finding you walking up towards him. You’re barefoot, sandals in hand, wearing another dress that’s not even remotely revealing but it says so much that it makes Shoyo blush slightly. You smile at him, warm and inviting, filling in him emotions he never knew he had. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“I was meditating,” he smiles, standing up to dust the extra sand off of his pants. “It calms my nerves down.”

“I was doing the same thing!” You exclaim, “Well, I was taking a walk to clear my head. I didn’t really know what to expect… tonight…” you trail off, watching as Shoyo stands at full height, closer than you had intended to be. He wears a plain white shirt that stretches across his chest, accentuating the best parts of his training. His tanned skin, his taut chest muscles, his freckles. Everything. It’s enough for you to drown in and never want to wake up. 

“Can I be honest?” Shoyo asks, looking up for approval. 

“Of course,” you reply, now nervous of what he’ll say. 

“This is my first date.”

Relief.

“Me too.”

“ _ What? _ ”

You chuckle and look off to the side, watching the lights turn on on main street. “I’ve… never been on a date before.”

“No,” Shoyo says, exasperated. “No! No. Impossible!” He doesn’t understand  _ how  _ in the world this has happened, but he’s already about to claim you for himself. 

You laugh and lightly hit him on the shoulder, “I can say the same about you!” 

He shakes his head more. “You are very beautiful.” He says, in a softer tone than before. You look up at him, watching as his eyes glance over your body and something inside you makes you feel kind of sick, kind of high and most definitely like you’re going to fall. 

When you don’t say anything back, he blushes and scratches the back of his neck. You look away and try not to break out into the biggest grin you never thought you’d be capable of making. “Should we go to dinner?” you ask, already falling head over heels for some foreigner in a foreign country that you had only met recently. 

So you walk side by side to dinner at the local cantina. You talk about everything; your job, his training, what it’s like in Japan, what it’s like in your home country, siblings… literally anything in between. 

You pick up his affinity for healthy, filling food; as he gives thanks for the meal. He watches as you enjoy your sips of soda, keeping his eyes on your lips as they curl around the metal straw. He makes note of the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way you look to the side when you’re embarrassed and how you listen to him intently, even if there’s a language barrier.

He walks you home on a high, forgetting why he even had nerves in the first place when everything felt so natural. 

“I had so much fun with you tonight, Shoyo.”  _ Viva Brazil, _ he thinks.  _ Viva foreigners who call him by his first name _ . 

“Me too,” he gushes, trying to keep his cool. You both walk past the beach, Shoyo making sure to wave at the people he regularly plays with at night time. 

“You’re a pretty popular guy, aren’t you?” you tease, bumping your hip slightly with his.

“Yes? No?” he exclaims, unsure of how to take it. “You’re the only girl I’ve gone out with here!” he defends, waving his arms and looking you in the eyes seriously.

“I mean for volleyball! Everyone here loves you,” you say, watching the activities unfold. “It’s so nice to have so many people to chat with… but I must admit, I’m pretty glad I got you all to myself tonight,” you say sending him another grin that may cause him to short circuit.

“All the children love you, though,” he replies, stopping in his tracks. “You hold their hand, you answer their questions, you guide them, and you make them laugh.” He says this with a sincerity that your heart swells at the raw husk of his voice, wishing he would never stop talking. "You... are so bright..." 

You’re both staring intently at each other and Shoyo thinks that if he actually  _ tries  _ to be romantic he’ll suffer heart palpitations as if the beating in his chest is  _ normal _ . Shoyo had never been good with explanations or descriptions. Mixing it with a language barrier made it difficult. He immediately thinks of all the ways he could have put it, but he thinks he's said it the way he wanted to.

And there’s always a first time for everything. 

You lean in, invading his personal space. Shoyo, out of habit, stays quite still waiting for what you’re going to do. He can smell the perfume, the scent of your hair, and he wonders if this is what heaven is like. Your lips lightly caress his cheek, and you press a small kiss into his skin, lingering there for a moment or two. 

When you lean back Shoyo is a shade of red you’ve never seen before, and his eyes are wide, struck open by the sheer amount of shock that has entered his body. You begin to heat up too, absolutely in  _ awe  _ of the way your body took over your brain.

“Shoyo-”

Shoyo grabs your hand and pulls you forward, pressing his lips directly onto yours. One of his hands move to the back of your neck, pressing you forward, cradling you. He doesn’t have to do much as your hands make home on his chest, supporting your nerves with touch as he clasps his other hand over yours. When your lips part slightly his tongue shyly touches the tip of your lips but he backs away. 

When you open your eyes Shoyo is looking off to the side, the back of his right hand over his mouth as he adorns a blushing red from the tips of his ears to the highest points of his cheeks. He always was impulsive, but this was new for him. Something was blooming in the pit of his stomach, and with a mix of adrenaline; he thought that if he didn’t kiss you, he would miss his chance forever. 

And he absolutely didn’t want that. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone i'm so sorry this is late!!! i have really bad writer's block but i tried to push something out considering it has been a while since i updated this one. i'm happy with how it came out (but if it is SUPER bad i completely understand). i do have finals at the end of june so if i am a bit silent it's because i am studying! i hope i can get back to writing soon! thank you for sticking around, i'll talk to you all soon/on twitter

For a week exactly after the events of the date, Shoyo was, for a lack of a better word, fired up. Fired up in the sense that he was extra vigilant with his training routine. He had extra energy, bounced off the walls more than usual, and definitely ate more bananas as a result. 

It didn’t bother Pedro much, finding it quite normal that Shoyo was bouncing off the walls no less than before, but to outsiders there was a certain new-found energy that had arisen in Shoyo. Heitor had no qualms about it either, complimenting Hinata (as he usually does) on his solid jumps. 

While Shoyo may have been teased back at Karasuno for being so energetic, training in Brazil had kept him under control. Every time you messaged he would jump out of his skin in excitement; the late night phone calls would give him shivers down his spine, as if you were right there talking in his ear. 

You finally invited him over to your apartment a few weekends later. Your roommate, from Argentina, had gone back for a few days to visit her mother, which left you with a very free place for privacy. 

You had asked off-handedly if he wanted to join you for dinner at your apartment, rather than constantly going out for dates and spending money. Shoyo obliged quickly. Yes, he was elated to be spending time with you, but he missed eating a home cooked meal, even though he was certain it wasn’t going to be Japanese. The months he had been abroad had gotten easier thanks to his chance meeting with Oikawa, plus befriending Heitor and Pedro, but there was a certain intimacy that he yearned for which you provided him with tenfold. The chance to kiss, to hug, to hold hands - being in someone’s space without hoping he would be overstepping was one of the greatest destressors he found in you. 

It was approaching early evening when Shoyo started the walk to your apartment. He had quite an easy day - gym in the morning, some lunchtime deliveries for some extra cash (to buy you flowers) and some beach volleyball in the afternoon. Showered and strapped with a bunch of the local market’s sunflowers, he zipped over to yours, a path ingrained into his memory from walking you home several times already. 

With a tingle in the pit of his stomach, he passes through the gateway entrance and buzzes for your apartment. “Open!” you reply, the sound of your voice through the crackly speaker sending a giddy grin immediately onto his face. He races up the three flights of stairs, arriving at your door and opening it with the twist of his hand. 

“Ola!” he calls, dumping his shoes at the door. You appear from the kitchen, beaming immediately, “Shoyo!” you call, skipping over to him to kiss his cheek and give him a squeeze. He does the same, letting his lips linger a little into the softness of your cheek, holding you by the waist with his large hands. 

“These are for you,” he says, breaking apart and almost shoving the sunflowers towards you. He watches as your eyes winden, your hands flying to your mouth trying to cover the little ‘o’ you made in surprise. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” You squeal, admiring the yellow petals and the brown spores of the flower, holding the leaves in between your finger tips. “Thank you so much, Shoyo,” you say in earnest. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, blushing a little on his cheeks, “You’re making dinner. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh now I have to get a vase, and arrange it,” you sing, starting to waltz off into the kitchen, “Come in!” you call, cutting yourself off, “I’m cutting up some vegetables.” 

Shoyo mutters “ _ pardon the intrusion”  _ in Japanese, since it had been a long time since entering someone else’s home. He looks around the apartment and it very much looks like his -- barren apart from the couches and the television, but the kitchen full of ingredients and utensils. He notes, however, that you have a small terrace which can allow maybe two people to squeeze outside. At least it supports a clothing horse. 

While you unwrap your sunflowers and find a vase, he continues to look around, sitting himself down at the four-person table in between the small living room and kitchen. 

“Perfect!” you yell, finding a vase tall enough to support the sunflowers without trimming them. You fill the vase with water, and set it in the middle of the table. 

“It’s so pretty!” You gush, watching the sunflowers side by side with Shoyo, the literal embodiment of the sun’s rays. 

“How was your day?” Hinata smiles up at you, reaching for your hands. You come around and stand in between his legs while he continues to sit in the wooden chair, peering down at him. 

“It was very short,” you say, playing with his fingers. “I had two back to back classes with some children, and then I went shopping after.” You reach your fingertips into his hair, trying to tuck some of his orange locks behind his ear to no avail “What about you?”

“You know,” Hinata sighs, “the usual.” You both chuckle, knowing full well what “the usual” is. 

“Well,” you sing, continuing to play with his hair, “I decided that today I’m going to make kara… Ah… Geh?” You guess, unsure of how to say the word. 

Shoyo’s mouth opens and you swear you can see stars in his eyes. “Really?!” He asks, his brows pushed so far above his forehead you can’t help but laugh. 

“I saw some Japanese mayonnaise at the Asian grocer near the market, and picked up a few things, too!” You say, whisking yourself to the kitchen. “I was just cutting up some cabbage for the salad, and I’ve already battered the chicken how google told me to,” you say, focusing on the bowl. “I did buy some rice though, and the apartment came with a rice cooker! Could you… do that for us?”

Shoyo puffs his chest and pretends to roll up his imaginary sleeves, “Yay!” And in an instant, he’s at your side, tearing open the bag and is ready to give his all to washing the rice. 

Shoyo is caught up in the excitement of it all before he stops and remembers the way he would wash the kitchen for his mother and Natsu, back home hundreds of miles away, yet he’s never felt so connected to them in the months he had been living in Brazil. Something about washing rice was so intimate to him -- having only done it inside the comfort of his home, or when offering to help out during camp in high school. While he was in Brazil he stopped eating rice for a while, urging himself to try different foods during the two years he was based here, but because it was  _ your  _ idea to make Japanese food for him he didn’t even mind. 

You appear behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your hands on his torso. There was something sensual about the way his large hands caressed the rice beneath his finger tips, the way he took his time, never rushing or spilling any grains over the sides of the bowl. With every swirl you could feel the way his core moved beneath your fingertips, the light spray of his cologne entrancing your nose, as if you hadn’t already fallen into his trap. 

“Shoyo, you’ve washed the rice at least six times!” You squeal. 

He laughs, pouring the cloudy water out for the final time. “I got carried away, sorry.” You release your arms and he pops the bowl into the rice cooker, setting it for 45 minutes. “Back at home my mother told Natsu and I that we needed to wash the rice at least 5 times before cooking.” He turns around, instantly wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer. “But I think you distracted me which made me do it a sixth time,” he says smirking, though there is a hint of pink on his cheeks. 

You look at his lips, darting your eyes to his light brown orbs then back again to his lips, unsure of where to look. He does the same, his gaze lingering on your lips a little longer. You lean onto the tips of your toes, stretching your arms over his shoulders to hold steady, and you seal your lips together. 

The kiss is rushed more so than the handful of times you two have been intimate with each other. Shoyo dares push his hands to a place other than your waist, making sure you feel the span of his entire hand along your lower back, slowly raising them in a way that leaves goosebumps on your skin. You slip your tongue into his mouth, upping the ante and he is obedient in the way you lead. He reciprocates every turn of your head but when he finds a spot that leaves you breathless, with a hasty hand he places it on your neck, keeping you steady while he takes control. 

His mouth leaves yours and he dips further, peppering small kisses along your jaw, down to the side of your neck, and you’re unsure of whether you’re looking at the constellations or your white kitchen wall. When he gets a breathy moan out of you, all of his training at the gym kicks in and he lifts you in his arms, princess style, onto the small couch. It takes 3 or 4 big strides to get there, and when you arrive you are laid perfectly on the couch with him on top of you. He slides his legs between yours, using his knees for support as he kisses you deeper, the pure sensation of burning and wanting bouncing off between the two of you. He dares rub your waist, scared to place his hands any higher, and you feel something hard on your thigh. 

Something below your stomach stirs and tightens, making you go somewhat insane. Your hands are grabbier, your movements are sloppier, and the breathy moans that you had under control are slipping off of your tongue as if you were reciting a prayer from childhood. 

With every rub of your waist, Shoyo’s hands bring your top up, slowly but surely. To shake off the nerves you drag your hands down the front of Shoyo’s chest, pleasantly surprised at how hard it’s gotten (though Shoyo knows it’s hard because his core is flexing  _ majorly  _ right now). Your top stops just where the wire of your bra sits and Shoyo’s fingers brush the underside of it, daring to test past the barrier. His right hand travels around to your back, and he asks “Can I?”

When you nod and lift yourself up a bit, Shoyo is suddenly nervous, wondering about how he’s doing until now. With one hand he skilfully unclasps the bra and returns to kissing you, kissing your eyes, lashes, nose, anywhere he can. His left hand travels up, feeling the mound of flesh that swells underneath him,  _ very  _ aware of how hot the temperature has gotten and how tight his shorts are. 

You intake a sharp breath of air when he reaches your nipple, the callous of his fingertips surprisingly sensitive on your skin. With one shaky hand, he starts to play, massaging and squeezing in any way way he can. When he finds his rhythm, he slowly drags his hand between the valley of your breasts over to the other, leaving no skin left untouched. His fingertips are in search again, yearning for --

_ Beep! _

You are both halted by the sound of the rice cooker, telling you that the rice has been cooked halfway and will be ready soon. You both look at each other; red lips, eyes blown wide open and with slightly unruly hair. “Oh my god,” you shakily whimper, still being held in place by Shoyo, “We, um, need to cook the-the chicken now.”

“The wha... ?” Shoyo slurs, exchanging looks between your eyes and the underboob that has been exposed. “The karaage!” He exclaims, widening his eyes and lifting himself off of you. You reattach your bra and smooth your top down, trying to bring yourself back down to Earth. 

Shoyo looks at your sheepishly, trying to control himself as well. “We’ll continue later?” He asks, still blushing while he reaches for a small pillow and places it on his lap. “I’m sorry!” You pout, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the way he just so cutely asked. You giggle, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’ll prepare the oil now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to keep in touch with me! Visit me at meldve.tumblr.com and @_meldve on twitter!


End file.
